Of Aeroplanes and Juliet
by MurasakiNeko
Summary: Andromeda Black finds that Ted Tonks manifests all of her childhood fascinations, from flying to forbidden romance. Takes place from childhood to the birth of Nymphadora Tonks.
1. Silver Phoenixes

I don't own Harry Potter. That'd be J.K. Rowling. Maybe someday I will own something and people will write about it and have to disclaim it, but I doubt it.

***

Andromeda was the only one who ever noticed them.

They were great silver birds, with flowery plume of feathers that tailed behind them across the blue sky on a clear day, creating silvery wisps of clouds that remained for hours afterward. The birds sometimes flew very high, so that Andromeda couldn't even see what color they were, but sometimes they flew low, but never low enough for Andromeda to touch them. They were huge, and sometimes very loud, emitting low grumble and growls from the very core of their being. At first she wondered if they were some sort of kin to the phoenix, or possibly even dragons, to be so loud and powerful in flight.

Her sisters never seemed to care. Narcissa found them annoying; as they flew low over the house, rumbling in acceleration, she screwed up her face and clapped her hands over her ears. Bellatrix simply ignored them. Though Andromeda had always been the first to pay attention to them, Bellatrix gained an interest briefly when Andromeda suggested that they might be special Slytherin phoenixes, since they were silver. She even came along to ask their father and break the curiosity.

Alphard Black was immensely confused when his two oldest daughters, ages six and eight, came stampeding into his den demanding to know what the great silver birds were. Bellatrix then asked him if there was such a thing as a Slytherin phoenix, which at least he could answer.

"No, not that I'm aware of," he responded, furrowing his eyebrows. He wasn't nearly as excited about the idea as his daughter. He had been a Ravenclaw, and, as his wife (who had been chosen for him by his parents) was in Slytherin, it was to be assumed the children would be in one or the other. Bellatrix was already showing a decided preference. "I haven't even seen these birds . . . you say they're flying over our house?"

"Yes!" Andromeda pulled on her father's hand. "The noisy birds! Maybe you can't hear them in here; maybe you have to be upstairs in the nursery, right below the roof!"

Alphard gave the girls his old Care of Magical Creatures textbook and went back to his business, vowing to put a noiseless charm on the roof later so his daughters wouldn't be distracted by whatever these figments were as they slept.

"Help me look," Andromeda asked Bellatrix as they left the room, holding out the book.

Bellatrix screwed up her face. "I don't want to read that. Daddy said they weren't phoenixes, anyway."

"But don't you want to find out what they were?"

Bellatrix shrugged cooly, her shoulders shifting her thick, glossy, black curls.

Andromeda sighed and went back to her room, where she sat on the bed deciphering the textbook. She had taught herself to read, and, though she was only six, she had read more in the house than her older sister, who preferred action and physical games to quiet reading and drawing. Andromeda curled up on her fluffy blue quilt (her father had insisted on blue, in hopes that perhaps his most precociously book-smart daughter might lean towards his house) and opened the textbook. It was the 1948 edition, so it was a little outdated, but surely it will still contain what she was looking for. She continually tucked her hair behind her ear as she read, a fidget she had developed. Her hair was straight and chestnut brown, and, though Andromeda was beautiful, in contrast to her stunning sisters she seemed rather plain. Everyone in the Black family was known for their good looks. Andromeda's father, aunt, uncle, two cousins, and sister Bellatrix were all very dark, with olive skin and thick black hair, Bellatrix's of which was deeply wavy. Andromeda's mother and little sister Narcissa were lighter, though in the sense of winter as opposed to spring. They both had pale blond curls and a delicate white complexion, colorless and almost unhealthy in a sort of dying fairy way. Andromeda was the odd one out, with dead straight brown hair. She still retained the dark Black eyes- even blond Narcissa had those- but hers were not hooded or emotionless; they carried more warmth. Only her cousin Sirius shared this trait with her.

After several hours of sifting through the book, her finger now entwined in her hair, Andromeda dropped off to sleep, her face pressed against the pages. She had learned about phoenixes, werewolves, kappas, and hinkypunks, but there had been nothing about the great silver birds.

***

She had been awoken rather nastily in time for dinner. Sirius, Regulus, and their parents had come over for dinner, as they did nearly twice a week (or vise-versa), and Bellatrix had been interrupted from a game she had been winning against Sirius in order to call Andromeda down. It was a well-known fact that Bellatrix, though almost four years older than Sirius, was perpetually in combat with him. Ironically, Sirius almost always held the upper hand. For a five-year-old, he was remarkably clever.

"Come on!" Bellatrix dragged Andromeda off her bed by the arms, pulling the blue quilt to the floor. "We have to eat. And if you want to play with us after dinner, you have to be on my side, because I got stuck with Regulus and he's worthless."

"What are you playing?" Andromeda asking, trying to rub the red marks off her face where the book had pressed into her.

"Goblin rebellion," she said shortly, her nails digging into Andromeda as she dragged her down to the kitchen, refusing the let go. "I made Sirius be a goblin and he's doing it okay, but Narcissa's being stupid and keeps saying she's Medea. I told her she could be princess of the goblins but she won't."

"And who are you?"

"The dark witch Dulcinea," she said, as if it were obvious. Whenever Bellatrix played a game, she was always a powerful female, be it a queen, a warrior, or simply a sorceress. No matter how the real story went, she always had to win, too. It was her prerogative as the oldest cousin.

Andromeda never minded acting out who she was forced to be, though she preferred characters with brains and strategy, like goblins, than the giants and trolls of other wars. Quiet Narcissa was satisfied as long as she was something pretty- if not, her screams could completely halt the game. Regulus was excited as long as he was on a team, and usually he sided with Bellatrix, since he liked to win. Sirius was also easygoing, but then again, he usually tried to sabotage the game and ended up with all sorts of battle wounds inflicted on him- not from fighting, but from attempting to do something Bellatrix didn't like, which, of course, would cease the game until Bellatrix dealt with him.

The rest of the children were not nearly as lethargic as Andromeda as they sat down at the table to eat. Sirius was very red in the face and gulped down a goblet of milk before the food was even served. His mother poked him beneath the table. "Wait for the food!" she scolded. Regulus was so energetic that he actually attempted to play the repeating game with Bellatrix, with tragic results.

"Narcissa, you can be the goblin princess. She has long blond hair, and blue eyes, and a tiara!" Bellatrix was still trying to console Narcissa into her appropriate plotline with lies she knew would appeal to her.

"Narcissa, you can be the goblin princess. She has long blond hair, and blue eyes, and a tiara," Regulus repeated.

"Regulus, stop that."

"Regulus, stop that."

"Regulus!"

"Regulus!"

"I'm warning you!"

"I'm warn- AGGGHHH!" The plate of hot spaghetti Kreacher was placing before Regulus magically tipped over and landed in the boy's lap, causing him to scream in pain. Bellatrix leaned back in her chair, smirking. She always made sure to get revenge; no one escaped her wrath. Andromeda knew this very well.

As Regulus's mother dashed over to Evanesco the mess and heal the burns, Andromeda's mother lowered her wand under the table. Andromeda saw Bellatrix jump slightly as if stung, and then burn a furious red.

"Stinging Hex," Andromeda's mother whispered, smirking, to Sirius's and Regulus's father. "Very useful in training them not to lose their tempers."

However, it looked as if that had only made it worse. Bellatrix's dark eyelids had squinted noticeably downwards, narrowing her eyes. She glared at her mother with such passion that Andromeda was surprised nothing in the room burst into flame- it was not beyond possibilty; it had happened before. It was only Bellatrix's fear of further punishment that stopped her from delving her own mother into screams of pain.

Suddenly, there was a roar from outside the window. Andromeda recognized it at once. She leapt down from the thick, padded wooden chair and dashed to the window. "The birds, Daddy, the birds!" she shouted, pointing to the huge window adorned with stain glass Black crests.

Andromeda's mother and aunt exchanged looks. Andromeda's father paled slightly. "Dear, what birds?"

"I read that book and I couldn't find them in there!" she cried. "What are they? Come to the window and tell me!"

Bellatrix had begun to snicker and Sirius was peering curiously at her over his fourth goblet of milk. Alphard, however, humored her. Andromeda desperately tried to show him the silver birds- but she couldn't see them at the angle the house was at. The garden wall was too high, and the curtains that hung over the window obscured her view even more. "Maybe you can't see them out this window," she explained. "Maybe it's only in the nursery. Come on, let's go!" She seized her father's hand but he pulled it away.

"Andromeda, it's alright. We don't need to go see the birds right now."

"You don't believe me! You don't believe they're there!" she accused.

"Well . . . when you show me, I'll believe it, but we don't need to do it right now. Wait until after dinner. Why don't you sit and have some more noodles?"

Andromeda sulkily returned to her seat. Bellatrix shook her head in disdain and Andromeda wished she was temperamental enough to set her hair afire. She wasn't as good as making things happen with her mind like Sirius and Bellatrix were. Her mom had been afraid she was a Squibb for a while. Her power lay in books.

Everyone at the table seemed mildly concerned about Andromeda's outburst, as if she were insane- or, in the case of her aunt, just a foolish child who was craving attention. This diagnosis annoyed Andromeda, particularly since Regulus spent the rest of the dinner session whimpering to himself as if traumatized over the spaghetti incident. Finally, the meal ended, too late for Sirius and Regulus to stay any longer and play. Andromeda and her sisters were advised by their father to head upstairs to bed. Narcissa went willingly, but while Bellatrix shrieked in protest as she did every night, Andromeda bought some time to talk to Sirius while his parents dealt with the equally-disruptive-as-Bellatrix Regulus who did not want to Floo back home because the power made him sneeze.

"Have you ever seen the birds?" she asked him.

Sirius shrugged. "No. If you show me, I'll believe you. I hear them, though. I always thought they were dragons. They growl so loudly . . . I told Reg they were dragons once and now he cries when he hears them."

"So do you think they're birds or dragons?" Andromeda continued.

"Maybe they're neither. Maybe they're not even alive. Maybe they're ghosts, or . . . or some kind of crazy Muggle thing."

"Muggles don't fly. They don't have magic to make things fly."

Sirius shrugged again, but Andromeda had to say goodbye to him because her aunt and uncle had finally managed to get Regulus in the fireplace and Bellatrix, thanks to yet another Stinging Hex, was now on her way upstairs.

***

TBC . . . skipping ahead to when Andromeda enters Hogwarts . . . 


	2. In A Name

I do not own Harry Potter

***

The day Bellatrix started at Hogwarts changed the dynamics of the cousins by quite a lot. The entire summer before the eldest cousin went to school, she strutted around the house with a haughty air that let on just how much more mature she felt to everyone. Andromeda quite liked it; it meant she and Sirius could play whatever they wanted without her coming in and bossing them around. Narcissa usually tolerated Regulus and played the old games, but this time Narcissa was in charge. Regulus didn't seem to mind.

Sirius had a lot of good ideas in his own right that had never come out when Bellatrix was leading them. Andromeda, too, found her imagination added lots to the little games of pretend. However, Sirius sometimes made Andromeda uncomfortable in that he was much more mischievous than his oldest cousin; his idea of fun was sometimes to wreak destruction on old family heirlooms or order Kreacher to stand in the fireplace as close to the fire as he could without burning. Luckily, unlike Bellatrix, he let her have her own opinions and decide not to partake if she didn't want to.

Just the week before Bellatrix had started Hogwarts, Andromeda snuck into her room while her mother and Bellatrix had tea with a few callers whose children were also starting at Hogwarts. Andromeda wasn't terribly interested in talking to the Malfoys or the Lestranges, whose sons Lucius and Rodolphus (respectively) would be in Bellatrix's year. Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolophus's brother, was her age, but he was rather rough and Andromeda simply didn't want to play with him. She sat down on Bellatrixs bed, which was covered with green silky sheets, and pored over Beginning Transfiguration and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. She couldn't wait until she got to go to Hogwarts in two years.

***

On September 1st, Andromeda and her mother and sisters headed for King's Cross station. They had to walk, since the station was not hooked up to the Floo. Bellatrix wore her robes proudly, confident that by that evening they would be adorned with the Slytherin insignia. Narcissa helped carry her trunk, and Andromeda trailed behind, wishing she had had a chance to finish the chapter in the History of Magic book. She had just been in the middle of a very interesting goblin war.

On the streets of London, they passed a man playing a violin. He was standing on the edge of the sidewalk, his violin case open with a few pound notes tossed in. His clothing was ratty but his music was beautiful. Andromeda watched him in awe. She had heard music before, of course, even violin music, but the type usually played in the halls of the Black manor was magical music conjured out of the air. It was just notes, vibrations of sound. This music was played by an actual person, and it rang with character and emotion.

Andromeda felt a tug on her shirt collar. Her mother was eying the street musician with distaste and didn't want Andromeda to stare. He was a Muggle, and a dirty, poor one at that. Andromeda didn't really care. She loved the music.

They were just about to enter the station when they were accosted by Millicent Bagnold, the Minister of Magic. She tutted about how Andromeda's mother should know better than to allow Bellatrix to just wear her Hogwarts robes around London as if there were no secrecy at all. With a snap of her fingers, Bellatrix's robes changed into an ugly generic school uniform that looked as if it came from the 1930s and would even have been unfashionably undesirable then. She shrieked with disgust, and Millicent Bagnold pinned a little note to her robes. "Have the first teacher you see- and, mind you, teacher . . . not the groundskeeper across the lake- take that and read that when you get to school. They'll change it back. Yet for now, keep with looking like a Muggle!"

She strode off, ignoring Andromeda's mother's nasty mutters about the darn Muggles being too stupid to notice anyway.

***

The two years at home without Bellatrix were quite enjoyable. Andromeda could sit quietly in room and read without distraction, for Narcissa preferred solitude, too. Sirius devoted his energies to more entertaining things, rather than irritating Bellatrix. Bellatrix was having the time of her life, too. She had been made a Slytherin, and Andromeda was quite sure she was using her elitist house as an excuse to torment Muggle-born children. She had even learned a new nasty word from her friend Lucius Malfoy: Mudblood. She used it quite a lot when home for the holidays, as if it were something to be impressed about. The girls' mother warned her that it would make her sound crude and uncouth to speak like that, but Bellatrix didn't seem to mind. Apparently everybody in Slytherin used it.

Finally, the day arrived when Andromeda could join her sister at Hogwarts. She got her own set of robes and books, and a bag with a little monogrammed Black crest on it, around which was the constellation Andromeda. It struck her as clever, having the pictures rather than the initials. The day she boarded the train, she was sure to wear her most Muggle-like clothes. Sirius watched her go sadly; he would be all alone for a year with no one but Regulus, Narcissa, and the occasional future-Slytherin playmate to consort with.

Bellatrix abandoned her on the train immediately, of course, and went to go off and sit with Lucius and Rodolphus, where they immediately began to discuss their plans for Hogsmeade weekends, since they were in third year now. All of Bellatrix's favorite companions were boys, for some reason. Andromeda didn't mind that she was alone. She sat down in an empty compartment and waited. She was joined by a copper-haired girl dressed in green, with a shawl wrapped jauntily around her shoulders. Her green was a minty green that didn't remind Andromeda of Slytherin at all. The girl's name was Emmaline Vance, and soon she and Andromeda were talking and became fast friends. Emmaline loved to read, too, and was just as bored as Andromeda was of the books in her family library. She figured she would be in Ravenclaw. Andromeda's mind was made up, too. They vowed to find the library that very evening, and then they could each check out a book and exchange then with each other when they were finished. Andromeda was comforted when Emmaline let slip she was a pureblood; Andromeda wasn't quite sure how her parents would handle it if she made friends with a halfblood or Muggle-born. Bellatrix would surely throw a fit. Of course, the forbidden nature of these "Mudbloods" she had heard about but never met made Andromeda all the more keen to meet one.

The castle was more beautiful than Andromeda had ever dreamed. She was too busy watching the scenery to bother looking around at her classmates to guess which ones were impure. The giant man who rowed them up to the castle across the lake told them how much they would all love Hogwarts, and they all agreed silently.

Andromeda was about to wet herself with excitement as she was led across the Great Hall with its weather ceiling. She caught sight of Bellatrix at the Slytherin table. Her sister caught her eye, but soon turned back to her friends.

A boy with the surname Avery was called up first, and sorted into Slytherin. Andromeda was next. She was not nervous at all. She sat down squarely on the stool, and, as the hat slipped down over her eyes, its voice was calm and soothing. "Another Black, eh? Most of them are Slytherins, but some of you are Ravenclaw. Your father, I believe . . . and you seem to fit it, too, you lover of books and knowledge. You're dreamy like a Hufflepuff, too, but who says Ravenclaw can't have it's dreamers, too? There's no hatred of Muggles anywhere in you; you're too open-minded to be a Slytherin, but not quite as avid to stand up and shout your views, like a Gryffindor. I suggest you keep to your books and your dreams and see how you turn out in . . . RAVENCLAW!" The hat was slipped off her head and Andromeda slipped off the stool, throwing Emmaline a quick grin as she took her seat at the blue Ravenclaw table. Bellatrix caught her eyes again, and this time she kept them on her long enough to roll them with annoyance.

Andromeda didn't let this phase her. The table was cheering for her-- her! She sat, smiling, waiting for Emmaline to join her, which she soon did.

***

As promised, Emmaline accompanied her to the library that very evening. They didn't actually have time to read; they were so busy simply looking at titles of all the things they COULD read. There were old textbooks and historical accounts, fantasy tales and even recipe books for magical cooking. It was a pity they hadn't the faintest clue how to use their wands yet; Emmaline found cookie-conjuring spell just as their full bellies from the feast were wearing off.

She snuggled under the bright blue bedsheets in her dorm room that night reminded of home but feeling more excited than she ever had back there. There were so many people to talk to that weren't her mother's Slytherin-esque friends and their children or her own cousins.

The next morning, her first class was Charms. The class spent the period waving their wands, shooting out the blue sparks natural to Ravenclaws. Andromeda began to grow familiar with the feel of her maple wand; she thought she was developing a sense for the power of the dragon heartstring that was stretched nine-and-five-eighths inches within its core.

It didn't cross her mind until she walked out that she might have spent an entire classroom with a Muggle-born. She hadn't even noticed! Andromeda wondered how on earth Bellatrix figured out who was what. From the way her sister talked-- referring to Muggle-borns as scum, filth, and vileness-- she was starting to wonder if all Muggle-borns looked along the lines of the street musician she had passed on the way to King's Cross last year.

She was thinking about this as she walked out of the door, not minding where she was going. She ended up stuck in the door frame, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with a dark-haired boy with grey eyes. Simultaneously, they looked at each other, and then squirmed to break free. After about ten seconds-- holding up the rest of the class in the process-- they managed to break out, but Andromeda's monogrammed bookbag was caught on the door handle and tore open.

"Oh, aghh! Sorry about that!" the boy apologized immediately.

"Ahh . . . it's okay," Andromeda said automatically, stooping to gather her fallen books. The boy ducked down beside her in a kind effort to help, but in his hurry he only knocked his head against Andromeda's.

"Ouch! Sorry, sorry again!" 

He was so hapless, Andromeda had to laugh. The rest of the class was walking away around them, but she blocked them out. "You're funny . . . what's your name?"

"Thedore Tonks," said the boy. "Though I much prefer just 'Ted.'"

"Why? Theodore is pretty. I like it."

Ted blushed. "It's so long, and pretentious-sounding." He screwed up his nose. "What's your name?"

"Andromeda."

Ted let out a short grunt of laughter. "Well, I can see why Theodore would sound nice to you."

"I like my name," Andromeda said, feigning injury. "Andromeda, after the constellation . . . see, it's on my bag. With the Black crest." She pointed to her torn bag, expecting him to be impressed, as everyone always was, with her being a Black.

"You have a family crest? Nice," admired Ted.

Andromeda blinked. Then, suddenly, she understood. "What did you say your surname was?"

"Tonks."

"Tonks . . . Not familiar with that name." Her heart was starting to flutter.

"Well, I'm the first wizard in my family," he said boldly.

Andromeda blinked, her suspicions confirmed. "You're a Muggle-born?"  
"A what? Oh . . Muggle, right . . . still getting used to all that. Yeah, I'm a Muggle, er, born."

Andromeda pulled her things in and stood up. She was talking to a Muggle-born! A Muggle-born that amused her! "Wow! What's it like?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What, being a Muggle-born?"

"Were you confused when you got your letter? Had you ever heard of Hogwarts?"  
"No," said Ted, shaking his head in bewilderment. "It's crazy . . . I still think I'm dreaming. So . . . I take it you're NOT Muggle, um, born?"

"No," said Andromeda. Her voice came out more depressed than she had intended. It made her laugh; she sounded resentful of her pureblood family. "I'm a Black . . . well, I suppose you won't have heard of us, but we're a real elite wizarding family, pure as far back as the Middle Ages. We haven't produced a Squibb yet."

"A what?"

"Squibb . . . the opposite of Muggle-born. A Muggle born into a wizard family."

"That's probably considered quite a failure, right?" Ted grinned.

"Well . . . I don't know about some families, but if I had been born a Squibb, I probably would be disowned."

"For no fault of your own? That's harsh. Lucky you're a . . . witch, then," he smiled to himself. "Never thought calling someone a 'witch' could be a compliment."

"You've heard of the Slytherin house, right?"

"Yes, they're the silver and green, right?"  
"That's the one. Most of my family's in that house. I would . . . avoid them, if I were you. They don't like Squibbs, they don't really like . . . Muggle-borns, either."

Ted shrugged. Andromeda figured he was probably so jaded by everything new in this wizarding world, from wands to cauldrons to Floo to Dumbledore that nothing new would bother him at all.

"So . . . stay away from the silver and green then, right?"

"Right," nodded Andromeda. "Don't be too loud about your name around them. If they don't recognize it, they assume the worst. Most of the pureblood families have connections: us, the Blacks . . . and the Malfoys and Lestranges and Snapes and Wilkeses and Crabbes and Goyles and Rosiers and Averys and Notts and--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! I can't keep track of all of that? Just no Tonkses, right?"

Andromeda took a deep breath. "Right."

Ted looked up wistfully and said, as if quoting something, "But, after all, what's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Andromeda gaped at him. "What was that from? Did you just make that up? It was really pretty!"

It was Ted's turn to gape. "You mean you've never heard it? Romeo and Juliet . . . about the most famous play ever?"

Andromeda shrugged. "If it was written by a Muggle, I haven't heard of it."

Ted looked outraged. "You have to read it! It's about the most famous piece of literature ever! Well . . . Muggle literature. But it's a really nice story, too, about forbidden lovers who die."

"That sounds . . . really sad."

"Well . . . this is going to make me sound really girly," Ted blushed, "but I thought it was kind of sweet."

"Where can I get it? I don't think the school library has it . . . unless the Muggle Studies class reads it."

"You have a MUGGLE STUDIES here?" Ted's eyes widened. "That's insane . . . like we're-- I mean, they're-- some exotic animal or something?" He shook his head. "I'll see if Mum can send me up a copy. You do . . . use post here, don't you?"

Andromeda smiled. "I'll let you use my owl."

"Your . . . ?"

"Come on!" she grabbed his arm and led him towards the owlry.

As the two walked on together, they gradually grew more comfortable with one another. Ted was so bewildered by everything that he was completely open with the young witch who grew up with all of it and didn't hesitate to ask about every random wizard nuance. Andromeda, in turn, asked him what it was like to grow up without magic, from electricity to Muggle school subjects to Muggle literature besides Romeo and Juliet. 

Andromeda was still amazed; she liked this hapless Muggle-born better than any pure wizard she had met as of yet.

***

TBC, obviously . . . it's just first year . . . not even the end of first year . . .


	3. Violins

I do not own Harry Potter.

"Tell me what it was like to grow up a Muggle."

Andromeda, Emmaline, and Ted were working on their homework in the common room one day. Andromeda couldn't help it; she just spite it out. At first she blushed, but then curiosity overtook her and she waited for him to answer.

Ted wasn't offended. He smiled, pleased that he was getting good attention about his Muggle background.

"Well . . . everything requires a lot more effort. Or at least it did. You couldn't just conjure fire when you needed it, so people learned to make matches, and then came electric lights, and then even battery-powered lights, and-"

"Ooh, I've heard of electric lights," breathed Emmaline. "Isn't lighting electric, too?"

"That's why the Lightning Hex is a different concept than Lumos," Andromeda pointed out, nodded to their Charms homework.

"Yeah . . . and there's cars, run by gas . . . there's a lot of things run by gas, actually."

"So what do you learn in school? How to build cars?"

Ted laughed. "Kind of. If you want to get a job building cars. You start off with basic stuff, and then get more advanced in the field you want to go into. But you'd start off with everything, like we do here. You learn . . . well, Math, Reading, Writing, History, Science-"

"Isn't Science like magic?" asked Emmaline. "I read in our History book that sometimes Muggle scientists were accused of performing magic, and they actually died in the witch-burnings. Rather sad."

Ted nodded again. "Some of it. In Chemical Science you basically make potions, but it's mixing and it's not very magical. Physics is how to lift things and drop things and shoot things so they go certain ways- things you don't have to worry about as a wizard, because you control it with your mind and wand. Biological Science is just the study of living things- like Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures combined."

Andromeda nodded, entranced. "Which was your favorite?"

"I liked Science a lot, but I have to say magic's even better . . . but I actually was going to go on to school as a musician. My name was on the waiting list for the conservatory when I got my letter into Hogwarts."

"You were going to be a musician?"

"Yes; I play violin. I actually . . . well, brought it along with me," Ted blushed.

"Show us!" Emmaline prompted. Ted disappeared into his dorms and brought back a lumpy black case. He set it on one of the blue silk chairs and opened it, revealing a shiny red-brown violin. Andromeda was reminded of the man on the way to the station she had watched a year ago.

Ted picked up the violin, tucked it under his chin, and began to pull the bow across the strings. At first he didn't look at what he was doing- he saw the faces of all of the other Ravenclaws as they turned to see what the noise was- but he was excellent and he knew it, so he kept on. Andromeda knew why he had signed up to go into the conservatory- he was positively excellent. She watched his fingers press down on the fingerboard, pulsing like hesitating butterflies and making a rich vibrato. His bow flowed over the strings, releasing the most harmonious and charismatic sounds Andromeda had ever heard. Ted was such a nice, funny boy- and this was a side of him she had never seen. This was his emotion.

When he stopped, the entire common room clapped. At least half of the students were purebloods who had never even considered learning to play an instrument, brought up simply having their parents snap their fingers to get a symphony out of mid-air. Of the others, if any played an instrument at all, they were not nearly as gifted as Ted.

Andromeda couldn't hold in her rapture. "Oh! Let me try it! Let me try it, please!"

Ted positioned the wooden frame under her chin and helped her lay the bow across the shiny, metallic strings. Andromeda thought as hard as she could, willing beautiful music to come out, and pulled the bow.

SCRAWWWWWWCH.

Even Andromeda screwed up her face at the noise. Ted smiled wryly. "It doesn't work like magic," he said. "It takes both will AND practice. I told you Muggle Arts were much more difficult."

Andromeda handed the violin back to him. "I guess we wizards are so lazy," she said bitterly. "We just WILL things all the time. As long as we know the spell and are powerful enough, it just . . . happens. You actually have to make some effort." She felt rather guilty about it, actually. Her parents went on and on about how incapable and stupid Muggles were. It was simply just because they didn't have the advantages of wizards- and they had done terribly well in spite of it all.

"Do you want to try again?" Ted held the violin out. "You'll get better, I promise, if you work at it. I can teach you how."

Andromeda nodded. She wanted to work at something for once, have it come with difficulty. The violin's beautiful music was definitely worth it.

So Ted showed her how to hold the bow, how to position her fingers correctly on the ebony fingerboard, pressing down the strings so that they rang clearly. He helped her angle the bow right and after about an hour, she could work out the tune "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star"-- a Muggle children's song Andromeda had never heard but Ted insisted was always one the first pieces violinists learned. Some of the other Ravenclaws grew annoyed with this noise that was so vulgar and crude compared to Ted's symphony and headed into their dorms (and one, in NEWT Charms, simply placed a soundproof charm around their head and went on studying). Even Emmaline figured it was best she went to bed, until at midnight the two first years, still diligently bowing away on Ted's violin, were shooed off to bed by the Fat Friar.

Andromeda had musical dreams all that night. She had improved greatly, but it had taken a while. She didn't just say the right words and get a result; her fingers were calloused and her arms were tired from supporting the violin for so long. It felt good, in the same way Sirius told her Quidditch felt good- it made one tired but blissfully happy for having done something that required energy.

There was something, too, brewing in her 11-year-old mind, a bliss even deeper and more elusive than the tiredness and success of violin-playing. She didn't quite understand it and certainly didn't recognize it, but it was there.

It was something like Ted close to her, his breath mingling with hers, gently placing her fingers on the fingerboard and guiding her bow gently with his soft hands.

TBC . . . 


	4. The Forbidden Book

_I do not own Harry Potter._

The end of the year came too quickly, it seemed, for Andromeda, Ted, and Emmaline. Andromeda did very well on her exams; she could tell without even getting her results. The Ravenclaws always did on average much better than the other houses.

On the train ride home, she and her companions played Gobstones and munched chocolate frogs. Then, just as she was getting off . . .

Ted slipped a parcel into her hands. "Read it over the summer!" he winked. Andromeda could do nothing more than stare at the brown paper package as he dashed off, through the barrier, to meet the parents who could not come onto the platform to meet him.

Andromeda, however, had plenty of time to wait. Bellatrix took her sweet time bidding Rodolphus and Lucius good-bye, beseeching they write her, in a rather flirtatious manner. Bellatrix was partially competition and partially in control of both of them; she was neither too feminine nor too tomboyish, but, whatever the mixture, it served her well. Andromeda's mother seemed pleased with it.

Her mother let Bella get on with her goodbyes while Andromeda watched Ted leave. Emmaline came over with her parents, and Mrs. Black regarded them rather coldly. Andromeda wanted to stomp on her foot and tell her to be polite- after years of being told to be polite to all of her mother's pureblood friends, she wanted her mother to do the same. After all, the Vances were pure.

Mrs. Black eventually figured out she was dealing with purebloods, and became much warmer, but by the time the realization was made, Bellatrix was beside her, arms crossed and foot tapping, impatient to go home.

It was Narcissa who first noticed the parcel. "What's that?"

"I have to open it first," Andromeda replied.

"Wait until we get home. No need to cause a fuss in the station," her mother suggested, taking Narcissa's hand (though Narcissa was reluctant) and leading her out through the crowds of milling Muggles.

Her mother, father, and two sisters surrounded her as she sat on the couch and tore open the parcel, feeling as if it were her birthday.

"Who's it from?" Narcissa asked, mid-opening.

"A boy in my year."

"A boy?" Bellatrix smirked.

Andromeda stopped ripping and met her eyes. "Yes. One of my friends."

Bellatrix leaned back. "There's no such thing as a boy friend," she insisted.

"Then you're a bit of a tramp, aren't you?" Andromeda snapped, a bit irritated and wanting to get on with her parcel.

Bellatrix opened her mouth and made a motion to reach for her wand, but Mr. Black stopped her. "No magic over holidays, remember?"

Mrs. Black sighed and fanned herself with the green and silver lace fan she kept nearby during the summer months. "Such a foul rule. For the Muggle-borns, of course. Stops the pureblooded children from practicing, all just because of a couple of students who would foul up or give away our world. It would be so much simpler if the Muggle-borns were the only students under the ban."

Mr. Black raised his eyebrows. "We'd have the girls fighting perpetually- with magic. You know how hard that is to clean up. I say it's a good idea."

Mrs. Black shrugged. "Merlin, it's hot in here," she fanned more vigorously.

"You know, Muggles have got a way to keep themselves cool with electricity," Andromeda said, picking at the string on the parcel with her teeth. Ted was a paranoid parcel-wrapper, that was certain. "They call it 'air-conditioning' and it's a lot of vents that blow in cool air around the house."

"Andromeda, don't bite at that string like that. It's not ladylike and not to mention disgusting. Do you require assistance?" She brought out her wand.

Andromeda held the string steady so her mother could charm it into pieces. When this was completed, she tore the last layer of paper off.

Mr. Black aimed his wand at the fireplace, where blue flames sprung up. They emitted cool air. "How's that for a good wizard equivalent to air condi-whatsit? We've got the Muggles beat, still."

"Where on earth did you learn what Muggles do to keep cool?" Bellatrix asked, sneering.

Yet the package was open. It was a book- Andromeda had assumed that earlier- but she recognized the title at once.

"Romeo and Juliet," she read, stroking the cover, which featured a painting of a man in medieval garb standing beneath a young woman watching him from a balcony. Andromeda noticed a leather bookmark and opened to the page.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. As Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title," she read. Then she smiled. "That's the line he was talking about!"

"What book is that?" Mrs. Black leaned over from her chair, abandoning the fan. "William Shakespeare, who's that?"

Bellatrix suddenly gasped. "He's a Muggle! We talked of him in History of Magic, we were studying Muggle interpretations of witches and wizards, and he wrote a play once with witches in it and got them all wrong-" Suddenly she stopped babbling. "Andromeda, what are you doing with a Muggle book?"

"I told you, I was given it by a-"

"By who? Do we know them?" Mrs. Black was sharp. "Is he . . . is he a pureblood?"

Mr. Black finally reacted. "Maybe it was a joke, dear."

"It was a boy named Ted Tonks," said Andromeda defensively.

"Tonks is a funny name," thought Narcissa aloud.

"He can't possibly be pureblood," snapped Mrs. Black.

Andromeda hugged the book to her chest. "What does it matter? It's just a book!"

"If he's giving you gifts, you can't know what he expects in return, and you can't depend on wizards not raised in our society to know proper etiquette, and we don't know what on earth this book is about-"

"It's a love story!" cried Andromeda. "That's it! A tragic love story!"

"You see?" Mr. Black stepped in. "It's innocent, I'm sure. I can read it first, if you want, and see what this is all about. I'm sure it's no corruptive work."

"It could be pro-Muggle-born propaganda."

"Dear, it was written by a Muggle. Judging by how he wrote of witches, I doubt he even knew of our world. He couldn't, therefore, be persuasive."

Andromeda was very glad her father had been a Ravenclaw. Her mother sat back, defeated. "Fine. She can read the book. But that's not what I'm most worried about. What of this boy?"

Andromeda went up to her room, feeling very satisfied. Narcissa followed her, gaping at her as if it were some great intrigue to own a Muggle-written book. Bellatrix followed to, but at a distance, pretending to be disgusted.

"Go live with Muggles if you like their books so much," she scoffed, brushing Andromeda rudely with her shoulder as she passed her on the landing.

Andromeda didn't pay attention to her and simply sat spread out on her bed, feeling just as she did when she was little.

She loved the story. She loved the romance, the idea of love at first sight, the devotion of the lovers, the tragic beauty in their deaths. Mostly, though, was the transcendent idea of what they stood for- from two families, two worlds (two conflicting worlds, at that), able to reconcile and love against the odds. Even for a Muggle writer, Shakespeare had captured the feelings so well. After all, both Muggles and wizards felt the feelings of love and tragedy.

Deep down inside Andromeda, there came the stirrings of a rebellion of thought. It was always assumed she would marry a pureblood and carry the Black blood through whatever fine family she married into; she knew it and she accepted it. Yet- it did not occur to her right away, but it occurred nonetheless- that it was possible for that not to happen, for something more romantic and beautiful to be her real ending, her own beautiful story- even if tragic.

_TBC . . . Thanks to everybody that reviewed! I love you all!_


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